The Shtreimel Box vs. the Hat Box דער שטריימל-קעסטל קעגן דעם הוט-קעסטל

On every plane flying from New York to Eretz Yisroel there is a quiet contest nobody talks about. It doesn't happen between people — it happens between boxes.

The Shtreimel Box

• Big, round, tall as a little tower, and it can't be squeezed in anywhere.
• Its owner holds it on his lap until everyone is seated, because "this is not something you just toss aside."
• He knows exactly what the shtreimel cost, but he won't say. He only says: "It's not a simple thing."

The Hat Box

• Smaller, but with a big personality.
• The Litvak places it in the overhead bin with the care of a surgeon in the operating room.
• On the lid, in big letters: "Do not place anything on top!" — and that is not a request, it is a psak.

The Conflict

Only one spot is left in the overhead bin. The Chasid stands with the shtreimel box in one hand. The Litvak stands with the hat box in the other. Both look at the spot, then at each other. A long silence.

"You can put your hat on top of my shtreimel," says the Chasid generously.

"No, no, put your shtreimel on top of my hat," answers the Litvak, just as generously.

Both know the truth: nobody puts anything on top of anybody, not today and not ever.

The Salvation

Finally a bochur from the third row stands up, takes his backpack out of the bin, and shoves it under his seat. "Please," he says, "now there's room for both."

The Chasid and the Litvak set the boxes side by side, like two neighbors in shul. For the whole flight, every couple of hours, one asks the other: "Everything all right with your box?" — "Baruch Hashem, and with yours?"

When the plane lands, they take down their boxes, wish each other "a good Shabbos in Eretz Yisroel," and each goes his own way.

Because a Yid who guards his Shabbos clothes understands better than anyone another Yid who does exactly the same.